


Heaven

by sarahxxxlovey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confessional Sex, Crying, F/F, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, Lydia Martin Loves Stiles Stilinski, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Sex, Sexy Times, Smut, Stiles Stilinski Loves Lydia Martin, first time together that is, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahxxxlovey/pseuds/sarahxxxlovey
Summary: "Stiles couldn’t believe this was really happening.No matter how many times he got to kiss her, it was still hard to believe that the girl was Lydia Martin."





	Heaven

Stiles couldn’t believe this was really happening.

No matter how many times he got to kiss her, it was still hard to believe that the girl was _Lydia Martin_.

They’d been sitting innocently on the couch under a thick blanket, watching TV with his dad when she’d started running her perfectly manicured pointer finger back and forth up the seam of his jeans, making his breath hitch in his throat and his pants just a smidge tighter. He had jerked at the touch and Noah had looked at him questioningly, curious what had made his son so jumpy.

Lydia had sat there like nothing had happened, watching the screen as she bit her lip and tried to hide a mischievous smile and all he had wanted to do in that moment was kiss the smirk right off her.

The sheriff had finally fallen asleep and she’d pulled Stiles off the couch and up the stairs, up to his bedroom, Stiles following eagerly behind her. (The thought occurred to him that he’d probably follow her anywhere but he shook it out of his head when he realized that her ass was the perfect height to be stared at as she bounced up the steps.)

Shoving him into his room, she slammed the door behind her and pushed him up against it, pressing every inch of her flawless body up against him and kissing him like he was her oxygen. He was dizzy with the implications and the feeling of her tits pressed up against his chest and how she was running her hands along his ribs under his flannel shirt. He buried his fingers into her hair like he dreamed of a million times and resisted the urge to throw her back onto the bed.

They hadn’t done this before. Well, they’d done _some_ stuff but they’d never done _the_ stuff (interruptions were rampant in the supernatural world apparently) and her kisses felt like heaven as he came to the realization that this was probably the time. The thought of sex was enough to make him hyperactive, let alone the thought of sex with the girl he’d been in love with since he was eight years old and the idea of it all together in his head made him feel like he might just explode.

Her kisses trail down his neck and she sucks on his pulse with a giggle that is so Lydia he almost creams his pants, until she runs her hand south along his zipper and he’s afraid that creaming his pants prematurely might actually become a reality.

“You’re so hard for me,” she grins salaciously, rubbing her hand over the fabric of his jeans. He opens his mouth in what he’s sure is a comically stupid expression of pleasure but the feeling of her hand stroking him through his pants is better than any wet dream he’s ever had.

He takes her face in his palms, moving her chin so her mouth turns up to meet his and she gives in with a moan, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips against his again and then her lips leave his and they’re everywhere else, nibbling on his earlobe as she tugs on his hair or down his jawline.

He wonders if he’ll have red lipstick marks along his neck.

“Stiles,” she whispers against his ear, “would you like to move this to the bed?”

“Um, fuck yes,” he says eagerly, pushing her backwards gently until her knees hit the back of the bed and she bounces down onto his mattress with another giggle.

He buries his hands deep in her hair, the strawberry blonde that has haunted his dreams. When his fingers get stuck in the curls, he has to tug to get them out and Lydia moans as he smiles against her neck. He files the information away for later and promises to return to that, pressing kisses to what he has found out is very sensitive skin on her neck.

He pulls back to catch his breath and loses it all over again. She’s perfect, laying there with her thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans and her bottom lip caught in her teeth as she surveys him up and down. She’s so sexy, in her little skirts and heels and the sight of it makes him think of how her hips sway when she walks, how moments earlier she was leading him up the stairs to defile him in his bedroom.

“ _Love_ this skirt,” he tries to tease, but his voice is breathy and horny and desperate as he runs his hands along the leather fabric on her hips, trying to make her feel like he’s been feeling for the past decade. Breathless, in awe, frenzied.  

“I bet you’ll love what’s underneath it, too,” she replies, her voice seductive, her eyebrows raised. He growls and climbs on top of her, settling in between her spread legs.

He loves this about her, her sharp wit and her brain and how goddamned sexy she looked laying on his bed with swollen lips and fuck-me eyes.

She runs her fingers through his hair as she kisses him, tugging on it gently and scratching his scalp to bring him back when he moves too far away, and the feeling is so heavenly and calming until she rolls her hips up into his crotch and it feels like his heart will pump out of his chest again, like he’d taken a whole bottle of Adderall.

He can’t focus on one part of her, the feeling of her lips on his or her hips underneath him or how he can smell her perfume or feel her hands squeezing his arms.

He tugs at the bottom of her shirt and she does the same, pulling his own over his head as she undoes the buttons of hers one by one. His eyes move frantically from her fingers to her eyes, trying to decide where to look and which view was better.

She slid the shirt down her shoulders and the sight of her lacy red bra sends him into a frenzy.

“Need to touch you,” he mutters, sliding his hands up that tantalizing brown skirt and towards her center. She nods frantically and pulls the cups of her bra down, exposing herself to him in a way that he definitely loves. Stiles thanks gravity for blessing her, her tits pushed up and her nipples peeking out above the folded lace and he can’t believe she’s actually showing him her tits (again) right now. Another view that he has seen a few times but never seems to get old.

With a shallow breath, she moves his hand back to where to where it was, placing his fingers at the meeting point of her thigh and her hip.

“Is this okay?” he asks, looking down at her slightly.

She nods again, her eyes clouded and desperate.

His hand meets its destination between her thighs and he’s shocked to feel her arousal so blatantly.

“You’re so wet,” he gasps, sliding his fingers along her clit.

“Stiles…”

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so wet,” he repeats, sliding two fingers into her as she bites her lip and arches her back, her hands still clasped at the back of his neck, gripping the lapel of his shirt. He leans into her and kisses her chest, the valley between her breasts and the soft skin there.

She reaches for the button of his jeans and tugs, tugs, tugs on the waistband until he pulls away and kicks them off himself, settled back onto her and sliding his fingers back to her clit, rubbing her over her little lacy panties in a way that sends little shocks and shivers down her legs.

She’s breathing hard and her chest is heaving in a way Stiles fears is burned into his memory and he reaches his other hand down to slide two fingers back into her. She gasps, grinding against his hands and gripping the sheets on either side of her. Her face is screwed up in an expression that almost looks like pain and for a moment it worries him.

“You okay?”

“Shut up, Stiles,” she gasps as he enters her particularly squarely.

He grins and stops to pull tug the side zipper of her skirt down and then the skirt itself off her hips.

He’s breathless again, the reality of her being in her lingerie in his bed.

 _Of course_ her panties and bra match.

He realizes it’s for him, that she put them on and thought of him, and for some reason it makes him emotional, his breath catching at the back of his throat and it feels a little hard to breathe.

“Stiles?” she questions from below him, rubbing her hands up and down his arms as he holds himself on top of her. Her eyes are full of concern and he falls in love with her all over again.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he says honestly, his voice low and full of awe.

She looks up at him fondly and the emotion soars.

“We’ve waited too long for this,” she says, running her fingers through the hair along his temples. He leans into it and kisses her palms. “I’m sorry I…I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.”

“It’s okay. This is perfect,” Stiles insists, pressing another tender kiss to her hand.

She smiles again and looks down at them sheepishly, the tent in his boxers blatantly obvious and pointing straight to where it would like to go, her tits pushed up and displayed wantonly, the wet mark on the front of her panties glaringly obvious.

He leans down to kiss her again, the soft skin behind her ear and her bottom lip and he even places a peck on the tip of her nose, which makes her scrunch up her face but smile nonetheless.

He runs his hands down her side, feeling the lacy fabric of her bra and then her panties, squeezing her ass as he passes by but then reaching behind to unclip her bra.

A few moments pass and she pulls away from his kiss to raise her eyebrows at him.

“Shit,” he laughs embarrassedly, “I… Help me out here.”

She rolls her eyes in a way that says “you’re a dork but I still love you” and reaches behind her to unclasp the bra with one movement of her fingers and she slips it down her arms, moving her hands above her head and smiling shyly.

He takes the sight of her in, pebbled nipples and full breasts, her hair falling down around them and he can’t help but kiss and suck on the newly exposed skin.

“You can bite, if you want,” she breathes.

“What?” he says, his mouth on her nipples.

“Bite them,” she says, wiggling her chest further into his mouth.

“Lydia Martin likes a little bit of pain,” he says teasingly, smirking as he kisses the pale underside of her breast.

“Just do it,” she says sternly, her voice tinged with desperation.

There’s no mistaking that it’s Lydia Martin in his bed right now. (He loves it when she’s bossy.)

He does it and is rewarded with a small, breathy moan and he does it again and again, addicted to the sounds that she’s making because of him.

“Stiles, you’re driving me _crazy_ here,” she says with a pout, wiggling her hips against him as an attempt to get more friction.

“What do you want?” he asks earnestly.

Her eyes are closed but she’s smiling and gives a content little hum before her eyes snap open and he knows he’s in the best kind of trouble.

“Wanna cum with you inside me,” she says, rolling on top of him in one movement.

Whatever he thought heaven was before, he changed his mind. _This_ was heaven. Lydia Martin in red lace, straddling his hips and telling him that she wants to cum on his cock.

“Condom?” he asks, unsure of the proper protocol for this situation.

“Birth control,” she shrugs, shaking her head, her eyes full of love.

“Are you sure?”

“Would I say it if I weren't sure?” she says with an eye roll.

She looks drunk off of the power of how much he loves her and he feels the same, looking down at her with her legs spread, grinding against him in his childhood bedroom. It was all he had to not break down and he can’t decide if that meant crying with joy or fucking her until she screamed.

She looks down at him and all he can think is that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in the universe.

“Is this okay?” he asks, excited and nervous and impatient and worried all at one time.

“Stiles, are you seriously asking me if this is okay while I’m on top of you?”

“Ehhhhh,” he says, moving his hands back and forth in front of him.

She lifts herself off of him for a moment, sliding her panties down her legs and then nods her head in his direction and he does the same.

Lydia Martin is naked and on top of him.

She’s angelic and devilish and he doesn’t care if this is heaven or hell as long as he gets this forever.

“Is this okay?” she mimics him and in a moment he can sense her nerves. Beneath all the confidence and sexual prowess, she recognizes that this is an important moment too.

“I…” He’s lost for words, her tits out in front of him and pushed together as she rests her hands on his hips to keep herself off of him slightly and her hair is long and curly and pulled to one side and her lips are swollen from kissing and her eyes are portraying all the emotion that he feels and he still can’t believe that he’s finally hers.

She bites her lip.

“You’re perfect,” he settles on.

She takes the moment to line them up and slide down onto his cock, giving the sexiest sigh he’d ever heard in his life and his hands snap to her hips as she takes the breath out of his lungs.

“Oh, my God, Lydia,” he groans, “Give a guy a warning.”

“Stiles,” she breathes.

She’s riding him slowly, getting used to feeling of him inside her and he wonders if she feels the same way too, overwhelmed that this moment is happening, unable to distinguish this reality from the best dream he’s ever had.

She reaches down between them and touches herself, Stiles groaning at the sight of her and the little noises she was making.

“Fuck, Lyds,” he breathed, “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not a bad way to go,” she moaned.

God, she was hot. She was riding him and still making witty jabs at him and if possible, the thought that she was better than his dream girl got him even harder.

“Saucy wench,” he moans when she rolls her hips, biting her lip to stifle a whimper.

She smiles, her eyes still closed as she moves up and down onto him. He reaches up to tweak her nipple and she grins.

She feels amazing around him, hot and wet and tight and he can’t help himself but think about having this later tonight and tomorrow morning and the next day too.

He grips her love-handles and watches her, her hips moving back and forth against him, her hand moving frantically as she fingers her clit, his cock sliding in and out of her, her tits bouncing slightly as all this is happening and to top it all off, she moans his name every few moments.

“Not gonna last long if you keep going,” he admits.

“I’m not lasting long either way,” she says back bluntly.

“Fuck,” he groans, biting his lip and attempting to keep quiet.

He moves his hips up to meet her and her mouth opens in pleasure, slamming her hips on to him, increasing the friction and the impact and he grabs her hips harder, moving her up and down on top of him.

“Fuck, Stiles,” she moans.

“Lyds,” he gasps, feeling her getting close. She’s about to make herself cum on his cock.

“Stiles,” she gasps and he stops moving for a moment as she goes still, her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers moving frantically and in a moment she’s coming undone on top of him and he’s pulling her down so he can kiss her through it and she’s moaning into his mouth and twitching on top of him.

She falls down onto her hands and his chest and he rolls on top of her, still painfully aware of how hard he is inside her.

“Are we… are you done?” he asks, smoothing the hair at her temples.

“Done?” she says with sleepy fluttering eyes, her voice dazed. She kisses his cheek and plays with the hair at the back of his neck.

“Do you want… me to grab you some water or something?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

She laughs softly and shakes her head, pulling him down fully on top of her.

“Your turn,” she says, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him into her with his heels.

She’s nibbling on his ear and whispering things into it too, how good it felt to cum on top of him and how he’s filling her so perfectly. He’s fucking her hard now, setting the pace with his thrusts and Lydia’s tits are bouncing in front of his mouth.

He’s buzzing with the electricity of her words, how she’s telling him everything he’s ever wanted to hear from a girl and especially a girl that just came on his cock.

The thought of it again, Lydia on top of him, shaking as she came, pairs with the current moment, Lydia pressing a tender kiss to his sweaty cheek and whispering that she loves him.

He cums inside of her with a groan.

She lets him rest for a moment, petting the back of his head and scratching his scalp softly as his face rests in the hollow of her neck.

Finally, when his ears aren’t ringing so loud and he feels like he finally has his breath back, she speaks.

“Not that I wouldn’t be happy to stay here forever, but I need to clean up,” she whispers, the smile evident in her voice. He realizes that he’s still inside her.

She rolls them onto their side and as he snuggles his pillow, she runs to the bathroom quickly.

She returns after a few moments and pulls his tee shirt over her head, laying back down into his bed. He wastes no time in snuggling up to her, the afterglow and emotions still pulsing through him.

“Missed you,” he mutters into her neck.

“It was like ten seconds,” she laughs, rubbing his back.

“Tell me about it,” he says, pressing a kiss to her neck and giving a content sight.

He pulls back for a moment to look at her.

Her hair is spread out against the dark sheets on his bed and the streetlight through the window makes the shadows on her face lengthen and her hazel eyes are sparkling and there’s a slight glow of sweat and arousal on her forehead and chin and her cheeks are flushed and the black makeup around her eyes is smudged slightly and she looks like 100% angel.

He’s exhausted and raw and emotional and if Lydia had asked for anything in that moment he would’ve given his life to get it for her.

She looks up at him with big eyes, rubbing her palms up and down her arms, and his heart skips a beat, his mind flooding with all the times he cried himself to sleep thinking she was gone or that he’d never get to see her again or simply that she’d never love him back.

“There were so many times when I thought I’d never get this,” he whispers, his voice choked. “I had a fifteen year plan and… I could’ve sworn it was ruined.”

His voice breaks for real and his head falls, burying his face as far into her neck and the pillow as he could. He could feel his body shaking and still didn’t do anything to stop it, helpless to take any action aside from pushing his face further into her skin.

She’s whispering to him but he can’t hear what she’s saying and instead he tries to distract himself with more thoughts of her. The more he focuses on her, the calmer he feels, so he thinks of all the things he knows about her while she rubs gentle circles on his back and arm.

He knows her better than he knows the back of his hand. He spent years watching her from afar and then from closer and he knows everything about her, like that the perfume he can smell on her neck is Coco Mademoiselle and that the pendant sitting on the thin gold chain was a gift from her mother for her sixteenth birthday. That she reads books about math in her free time and that she likes to watch late night infomercials.

The blood in his arms and neck pumps more slowly now, a sure sign that he’s coming down from the heightened anxiety and a weight lifts from his chest slightly and he feels like he can breath again.

“You’re not supposed to cry after sex,” she says, half matter-of-factly and half teasing, her eyes full of love and concern.

“What about when it’s when the love of your life?”

She rolls her eyes with a smile and he loves every moment of it.

“Can’t fool me, Lyds,” he mutters against her skin.

“Mmm, oh well,” she laughs.

He feels a tug at the back of his brain to talk and he only has one thing to say.

“I love you,” he says softly, his voice raw and honest and he wonders if she knows that he doesn’t just mean I love you but I’d do anything for you and I don’t know if I’m ever going to stop loving you and I’d go out of my freaking mind if anything happened to you.

She kisses him, full and deep and his worry settles.

“I love you, Stiles,” she whispers, her eyes earnest and serious and she reaches up to run her fingers across his forehead. “I should have told you a long time ago but, I love you. So much.”

Her eyes fill with tears as she speaks and he catches one with his thumb, his heart glowing warmly at the core of his chest.

“You’re not supposed to cry, remember?” he laughs softly, wiping the tears from her perfect cheeks.

“You make me sappy,” she laughs, rubbing the palm of her hand under her eye.

It’s all he can do not to hug her.

Then he realizes that she loves him and after years of trying not to kiss her cheek and hold her hand and give her hugs, he can do all of it and so he pulls her close, one hand on her waist and another around the back of her head. She smiles against his neck and relaxes against him.

No matter how many he got to do this, he still couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to belong to Lydia Martin.

**Author's Note:**

> They've been eating my heart alive the last few weeks and they make me so angsty I feel like I can't breathe. I JUST LOVe THEMMMM.


End file.
